Of Miracles and Chicken with Cheese Dressings
by Sylvette-Cross
Summary: Peter has been guilt-ridden for quite some time now. What happens when your ALWAYS guilty? You go mental of course! Let's just hope that he can stay sane in time for the Pentecost. PS: I made sure that this story will NOT bore you to death with bible facts, and sayings. Give it a chance, puh-lease? For those people that will read this...ENJOY! :3 For those that won't, ok then ;)


Okay, I don't usually write fanfics about the Bible. This was originally a project for my Religion class, but when I thought about it, I said, _Oh what the heck I'll just go post it in my fanfic account. :3_

FYI: This story will NOT bore you to death with bible facts, and sayings. Give it a chance. :D

BTW: This is also the reason why I have not been updating and posting my promised fanfics. Don't worry; it'll come soon, honest!

PS: There will be no swearing or adult scenes in this fanfic. Why? Because it's about THE BIBLE! =.="

Hope you enjoy! ^_^

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS!

"Of Miracles and Chicken with Cheese Dressings"

Peter's P.O.V

My nightmare started like this.

I was in an empty field with withering grass, and a black sky, which reminded me of tar.

_Where am I? _I thought drowsily.

I squinted my eyes to see more clearly, and set my hand just below the bangs of my raven black hair.

_Weird,_ I thought, more alert now, _there is no sun or moon, but there, in the north, is a blinding light._

Suddenly, icy wind blew, which left me with a set of chattering teeth. I looked down at my robes to see if they are able to keep me warm, and cringed in horror.

"Impossible…" I whispered to myself.

The robes were royal blue, with a brown sash. These robes were the ones I wore three days ago, during Jesus' crucifixion.

_But I burned them!_

Frantically, I began pulling the robes to get it off. No luck. For me, these robes were tainted. Tainted, not with dirt, nor with blood, but my sin, the sin of betraying my friend, my teacher, my God.

Before I could help myself, I let out a whimper of fear.

_Is this my punishment? _I thought, tears welling up in my misty grey eyes.

Before I could even answer myself, that blinding light of the north was pulling me to its source. I expected the light to be gentle and soft, because it belonged to Jesus. It's as If I was still expecting his forgiveness.

But this light conveyed the message that was the very opposite of forgiveness. For me, it radiated disgust. Instead of pulling me gently, the light was clawing at me, digging through several layers of my skin.

After several minutes of struggling, screaming, and cries of help, I finally arrived to the light's destination. When the light stopped digging into my copper flesh, I stood very, very still.

I was facing Jesus. Crucified Jesus.

I started trembling violently. This Jesus was almost the perfect imitation of the real crucified Jesus. Almost. It was the eyes that told Peter that this was a fake. When I arrived at the crucifixion, Jesus' grey eyes were closed. This time, it was open, staring right at Peter, and this time, his eyes were red. Blood red.

In a low and husky voice, the Jesus imposter said, "Do you know Jesus of Nazareth?" The Jesus imposter's voice reminded Peter of slime, and chainsaws, so different from the velvety voice of the _real_ Son of God.

Before I could've said anything, someone behind me screamed, "I don't know him!"

My head snapped to the direction of the voice. The Jesus imposter wasn't staring at me. It was staring at… me?

Right behind me, dressed in exact same robes, in exact same shoes, was another me. Another imposter. I stared at him in horror. If the other me noticed me, he didn't give any indication of sorts.

The Jesus imposter narrowed his scarlet eyes, "Are you acquainted with Jesus of Nazareth?"

The Peter imposter, clutched his black hair, and again screamed, "I don't know him!"

The Jesus imposter smiled slowly, sadistically, "Are you an ally of Jesus of Nazareth?"

In a voice that echoed through the vast, dead field, he wailed, "NO! I DON'T KNOW HIM!"

The Jesus imposter was now grinning from ear to ear, his red eyes glowing in the sudden dark. To my horror, the two imposters started to melt, turning into black jelly. When both imposters were only black clumps of jelly-like substance, I slightly relaxed.

Then, there was a hissing sound all around me, as if I was surrounded by snakes, big, deadly snakes.

The two black jellies started to rise, it's clumps forming hands that was clutching at air, as if it was a human that was trying to rise out of the earth. Finally, the two black clumps stopped moving. Replacing the two clumps were two sleek black crows. The two crows cawed at me mockingly, and circled me over and over.

With trembling hands, I tried to strike them away but they just kept cawing. It was like that for what felt like an eternity; the crows cawing, me screaming, and the Jesus imposter's voice booming with laughter.

That night, I naturally woke up in cold sweat, my breathes coming in gasps, and clutching my pillow as if it can fight of whatever darkness that haunted me.

That day, I was expecting vampires, werewolves, a black sun, and a zombie apocalypse. I shivered, goose bumps creeping into my skin.

Andrew, my noisy little brother, raised an eyebrow. "What got your toga in a twist, brother?" I said nothing.

Andrew usual easy-going attitude immediately dispersed. "Having nightmares again?"

I huffed, "You make me sound like a 7year-old who needs his mommy."

He flashed me his 250-kilowatt grin, "Aren't you?"

I just fondly shook my head.

Andrew and I were heading to our usual place. It was the place were the 12 disciples met to pray, and praise God.

"Oh look, it's Peter and Andrew!" Nathanael Bartholomew pointed at our direction. Accompanying him was Philip, who is obsessed with numbers. He stood with all his dark brown hair that hung up to his shoulders, and nimble figure. Like Andrew, he has his own "signature smile". Though his is called "The Pearls" instead of "250-kilowatt".

After a bit of chitchat, we finally started to make our way to our meeting place.

The meeting place wasn't exactly holy looking. More like dirty looking. It was merely an abandoned little hut just outside of Jerusalem, one of the biggest cities in the region of Judea.

When they went inside, they saw a brown-haired boy was sitting right in the middle of the circle made of disciples. Not only that, but the others looked… disturbed. Their eyes would pointedly avoid the boy's grey eyes; grey eyes that would undoubtedly beat mine in regards to beauty. When the boy turned around and set his mystical grey eyes on the five, he smiled.

The boy, about 18 or 19 according to his height, got up from his crossed-legged sitting position. To my amazement, he managed to do it with the purity of a dove, and the grace of a deer, while being in a filthy floor. The dust was caressing his skin, and as it did so, it looked like cocoa dancing at the planes of his milk-white skin.

"Hello." He said in that eerily familiar velvety voice. Peter instantly knew that this was Jesus, _the_ Son of God.

"Ho-How…?" Matthew said, his mouth comically gaping.

Jesus frowned. "Have you all lost your faith when my spirit was released?"

By this, we were all just staring at Jesus. Jesus sighed.

"My children, I told you that I would rise three days after my death. Did you not believe me? Did you lose your faith? Are you similar to Judas?"

Everybody nearly gasped. No one has dared say _his _name, especially not in our meeting place. Judas Iscariot, a Scarlet-haired, vigorous looking man, with severely brooding eyes, is a _former_ disciple that sold Jesus to the high priests. Judas betrayed Jesus.

_As if I can talk about betrayals,_ I thought depressingly.

Finally, James, son of Zebedee, who was considered the "brave" one in the group said, "We are merely shocked, Lord. We were very distraught when you… died."

Jesus just smiled at him.

James, with his hazel eyes, smiled back, and pushed the bangs of his Scarlet-red hair, but unlike Judas, his hair was monstrously curly, wherein Judas' were stick-straight.

At this point, I was trembling. Jesus turned to me.

I expected him to scowl at me, or blast me with lightning, or something, but he merely said, "You look like you have something to say, Peter."

Everybody was now looking at me. I didn't know whether they felt pity, or distrust. They all had their no-expression expression on. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

I went down to my knees, and said, barely a whisper, "Lord, I have been waiting for my punishment for three days, even my dreams seems to haunt me. I have no right to ask your forgiveness, Lord, but I just wanted to say thank you."

I braced myself for the pain that I knew would come, but, like a blessing, Jesus said, "Raise your head, Peter."

He then went to me and clasped my shoulder. "Every man should make mistakes. Though, only a wise man can realize that he made that mistake, and accept the consequences that follow."

He smiled at my unbelieving face, "Everything happens for a reason." He stood up and faced the others, "All of you that follow me should remember that."

Then, all at once, every disciple started to shout praises, and prayers.

That day was one of the happiest that I have spent. All day long, we did nothing but talk about God, our travels, and our futures. When it was finally time to say goodbye, most of us were in tears. To our amazement, Jesus started to shine, in a way that could compare to the sun.

"Children of God, my blessing is with you all. God Himself will decide the day of my return… when the kingdom will come on Earth. For now, I am returning to the Father… and you will not see me… But you will be my witnesses!"

Together, the 12 disciples, who were huddled together, as if they were playing football, said, "Yes, Lord!"

I thought that departing with my dear friend was going to be tougher than the first time. Instead, It was easier. Maybe it was the fact that Jesus forgave me, or maybe it's because I knew that I have a purpose now. Now, gazing at my Lord that was shining like the sun, made me more… confident. I never was very confident. The expression and love that was etched in Jesus' face was enough to tell him this exact message: _You are worthy, my child. Believe._

For the next weeks or so, I did everything in my power to spread the word of God. I poured everything in my prayers during the mornings, preached during the afternoon to dusk, and prayed and praised God with my fellow disciples, discussing and reporting our progress in spreading the good news until well after midnight.

I was happy. I dreamed about a life like this, praising God, spending my time with my friends, and most of all, feeling at peace. This was the first time that I truly felt at peace, unless you consider, pulling pranks on my annoying neighbor down the block as "being at peace".

But I was very unaware of a sudden change that was lurking at the corner.

It all started at the Pentecost, the harvesting festival that was held in Jerusalem every year. Of course, if there's a festival, there's a massive flock of different kinds of people, eager to feast, and celebrate. The gang and me were walking down the street, our mouths watering at the sight of plump grapes, scarlet apples, big, juicy oranges, and many others.

Matthew, with his barrel-shaped torso, looked quite funny when he inhaled sharply, trying to resist the urge to snatch a holy-looking corn at the stand beside him.

John, brother of James, who also had that scarlet hair and Hazel eyes, teased Matthew by saying, "I feel pity for you Matthew. You look so disturbed that people would be wondering if a war was going inside of your head."

Matthew flushed, and all of us laughed.

Suddenly, a flock of Greeks went by pointing and staring.

Thomas, who was considered the "realist" of the group, whistled. "Wow, never thought that the Pentecost could be so famous to foreigners."

"Of course it's famous! We've got food after all, and there's nothing like a mountain of food to attract a swarm of people!" Andrew shouted, dramatically waving his hands in the air to add exaggeration.

If only I knew how much more dramatic the next few minutes were to be.

"Guys," Simon said, sounding uneasy, "they're staring at us."

All at once, as if on cue, our head snapped to the group of people that were staring at us in awe.

Suddenly, James gasped, and looked up. The rest of us followed.

I almost wished that I didn't look up. For when I did, I saw fire. Real fire. Fire as in, burn to a crisp fire that can eliminate your entire body, and leave nothing but ashes. Flashes of screams, and white-hot flames went through my eyes, as if I was watching a film. The fire shot down at me, and my ear popped. I was surrounded in fire now.

_Great,_ I thought, eerily calm, _now I'll be cooked like chicken, and everyone can feast on my remains._

I knew I was going crazy, but helplessly, I started to wonder if I really did taste like chicken. Hmmm… maybe chicken with cheese dressings. After what felt like an eternity of thinking what kind food I wanted to be when I grow up, the tingling that was crawling at my skin vanished.

"What…what happened?" Matthew groaned.

"I don't know." James said, looking stunned. He turned to the crowd, who were still staring and said, "What happened?"

At that point, things started to go even crazier. The crowd gasped, and whispered among themselves.

"How did he-" gasped one.

"He talked in-" whispered another

"Are you Roman?" a soldier asked

"But they're Jews!" another one cried.

Finally, Nathanael, who had a short temper shrieked, "Quiet!" The crowd was silenced.

James, always being the calm one in the group said, "Now, please tell us what surprised you."

The Roman soldier stepped forward and said, "You are amazing! You speak Roman even though you are a Jew!"

"Roman? They spoke in Egyptian!" cried an Egyptian woman, who carried a toddler.

"Wonderful" an old man breathed, "You were speaking in several languages; Crete, Arabian, **(Egyptian)**, Phrygia, Judaea, **(Roman)**, Cappadocia, Cyrene, **(Asia)**, Medes, Elamites, **(Greek)**, and Jew."

One of the people rolled their eyes. "Great," he muttered, "They're drunk."

Suddenly, it dawned to me exactly what was happening. With all the confidence that I could muster, I shouted, "We are surely not drunk! It is only 9 in the morning! This, my friends, is a gift from God. He is telling you to spread His words. If you are Asian or Arabian, it doesn't matter! Have faith in the one true God!"

The other disciples were looking at me, stunned. I've never sounded so confident, and sure of myself than I am today. I remembered Jesus' words: _You are worthy, my child. Believe. _

Just as my confidence came, it went. I suddenly felt sick. As far as I knew, I only wanted a simple life of praising God; I didn't want to be a leader.

I remembered Jesus' words again. He believes in me. My friends believe in me, so what right do I have to disappoint them? The flow of confidence went through me again. I don't have to gain a simple life to feel in peace. I can feel in peace here, as a leader, as a preacher, and God's messenger.

That day, the disciples baptized thousands of both Jews, and foreigners.

So… Good? Great? Lame? Worst ever?

Hope you enjoyed :3

R&R!

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Sylvette-Cross out!


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